


Ensorcellment

by TaergaLive



Series: Baldur's Gate 3 one-shots [11]
Category: Baldur's Gate
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-13 00:28:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28644459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TaergaLive/pseuds/TaergaLive
Summary: “When a child lays their eyes on fire for the first time, they are usually enthralled by its ethereal beauty. And without guidance, that very same fire can become a source of fear as it blazes out of control. But when we see it contained, when we can utilize it and harness it, we again fall in love with its beauty.”Sephrin debates whether she should study magic again like Gale says she should.
Relationships: Astarion (Baldur's Gate)/Original Female Character(s), There's a hint of another relationship hu hu hu
Series: Baldur's Gate 3 one-shots [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061618
Comments: 4
Kudos: 29





	Ensorcellment

**Author's Note:**

> Can you tell I haven't gotten further than the party scene? I have no idea what happens next game-wise lol. Maybe one day I'll keep watching.
> 
> There's going to be a secondary couple in these stories soon. Probably obvious but I won't tag it yet until it's more prominent. 
> 
> Also I still can't end stories for anything. Sorry!
> 
> also also here's a pic of Sephrin and Glynren https://taergalive.tumblr.com/post/639694679750934528/i-was-encouraged-to-make-glynren-so-here-is

“What is a creche anyway?” Wyll breaks the silence after almost an hour of travel, the town now far behind them.

“Another word for nursery,” Sephrin pipes up from her spot in the back. 

He blinks, turning back to look at Sephrin before fixing his gaze on Lae’zel. “A nursery?”

The Githyanki grunts. “We do not age in the Astral Plane, so we have creches throughout other realms to raise our young until they are ready to return home.”

Gale flashes his brows. “Truly? I knew time does not exist in the Astral Plane, but I hadn’t given much thought as to how your people thrived.”

Stepping over a log, Shadowheart chuckles. “I thought they just shed their young like mushroom spores.” 

Lae’zel adjusts her sword. “We lay eggs.”

“WHAT?” Astarion laughs a bit too loudly. “Like a duck?” Sephrin nudges him.

Keeping pace, Gale tilts his head. “So your people come to this realm to lay eggs, leave them here, and then take them back when they’re ready?” 

She glances at him, glaring at him for a moment before huffing. “The Varsh hatch the eggs and care for the young until it is time to start their training. It isn’t until a githyanki slays a mind flayer and returns with its head that they are considered full grown.”

Astarion snickers from the back of the group. “I’m imagining our Lae’zel just...squatting and popping out an egg.” Lae’zel snarls at him. Once again, Sephrin nudges him, which Astarion counters by grabbing her and twirling her about once or twice. 

Once Sephrin is back on her feet, Gale glances back at her. “By the way, have you given any thought to our conversation?”

Her face pales as she feels eyes on her. “I...haven’t had a chance to, no.” Truth be told, her mind has been occupied by other thoughts, mostly of whether or not her vampire boyfriend actually cares about her or is just using her. 

The look Astarion gives her surprises her. It’s almost accusatory, but she’s not sure why. “What conversation?”

Sephrin glances away. “A-About trying to...learn magic again.”

While Astarion doesn’t comment, his expression does soften. Sephrin isn’t sure what to make of that. What did he think Gale talked to her about? Whatever he thought it was, it seemed to upset him. 

Her brother, meanwhile, glances at her and smiles. “You should do it. You always seem happier when you’re learning something.” Sephrin stays quiet, trying not to think of how true that statement is. Glynren takes his sister’s silence as a concession. “I remember when you were younger, studying all the time. You’d either sit on father’s lap and read whatever he was reading, or you’d be curled up in the corner of the library, reading a book aloud to…” 

As he turns around, Glynren gives Astarion a cunning smile. “That’s why she likes you so much. It all makes sense now.” While Astarion cocks a brow, Sephrin feels her face warming up. It only takes her a moment to catch onto her brother’s words, and she tries to give him a pleading glance. But he ignores it and laughs. “When we were younger, she rescued and took care of a bat with a broken wing. Gave it a safe place to rest while it healed itself. And she’d read to him too. What did you name that little guy?”

Utter defeat on her face, Sephrin sighs. “...Batticus.” Wyll stifles a snort. 

Astarion, meanwhile, gives her an amused look. “Taking in a bat, darling? Not a very wise choice. Could have very well been a vampire in disguise.” 

Still red, Sephrin shakes her head. “Batticus wasn’t a vampire. I found him on the street in the daylight. Something had taken a chunk of his wing off, so he couldn’t roost.”

“Could have had a disease,” Gale argues. 

Sephrin frowns. Why is she being lectured about something that happened years ago? “He never bit me. Well, he nibbled a bit, but mostly on my hair of all things. He kept Father’s library very clean. Never saw so much as an ant while he was there.” 

Glynren chuckles. “You used to bring home a box full of beetles for him.”

“Well, he was very hungry. Bats eat a lot.”

“And yet you’re still afraid of rats.”

“Rats can be vicious.”

“So can bats!”

“Well, Batticus was a gentleman, unlike  _ some  _ people,” she huffs in her brother’s direction. In all honesty, if a bat were to fly at her at this very moment, she would likely scream. But as a child, she was not afraid of little rodents. She found them cute and endearing. Part of her wonders why she suddenly fears them. Perhaps knowledge of how they could spread plagues made them less cute in her eyes. 

Wyll gives Glynren a playful jab to the ribs. “I think she’s talking about you.”

Rubbing his side, Glynren chuckles and looks away. “Oh, I know she is. I am a far cry from being a gentleman, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that we have tadpoles in our heads and could have our minds turned to goo at any moment, I’d say I finally feel like I’m truly living.” 

Her pace slowing down, Sephrin slinks back. For years, Glynren has talked about striking out into the world, seeing all there is to see. But their father wouldn’t let him. Even after he finally reached adulthood, their father still viewed Glynren as a child. Despite lashing out, Glynren never attempted to leave without his father’s blessing, and Sephrin couldn’t help but think it was her fault somehow. Maybe her father wouldn’t give his blessing because he wanted Glynren there to help care for Sephrin. Or perhaps Glyren never left on his own because he felt the need to protect his sister. Whichever was true, she felt the weight on her shoulders. 

While he doesn’t slow down to match her pace, Astarion does hold his hands behind his back. He wiggles his fingers at her. She’s not sure why he does this, but it makes her pick her pace back up. 

Wyll chuckles. “Yes, I have to admit that traveling with this group...well, it hasn’t been terrible.” 

Shadowheart rolls her eyes. “I don’t know. I think there are much better ways I could be spending my time.” 

“Ah, your words wound me,” Wyll says with faux despair. Placing an arm around Glynren’s shoulders, he adds, “How could you not enjoy our company?”

“Like it’s hard?” Shadowheart retorts. 

As Wyll continues to play up his anguish, Glynren glances at the arm around him. He turns to look over at Wyll, and as he does, his eyes catch the mischievous glimmer in Astarion’s eyes. When he turns to look at the vampire fully, Astarion flashes his brows at him before turning his attention away. Glynren wants to ask what that look was all about, but he decides not to push it. He doesn’t want to start another fight, not when Sephrin looks more at ease than she normally does. 

After a few moments of peaceful silence, a strange grunt comes from Lae’zel. “...Batticus.” 

_________________

Their little camp certainly is no majestic palace, but returning to it feels a little like returning home. At least Sephrin thinks so. It gives her a place to retreat, a sense of normalcy. The sun goes down and they return home for the day.

Ever since their affair came to light, Sephrin and Astarion had taken to sleeping in a tent together. For Sephrin, it saves her from having to suffer judgment from the others, though it distresses her thinking about how they must suspect the two utilize the privacy for more illicit activities. She’s sure Astarion wishes they had as much sex as the others must think they do. That has to be the main reason he follows her to the tent each night, though he never pushes her for it. All in all, they’ve only officially “done the deed” twice now. Part of her wants to ask him why that is, but there’s a more prominent question on her mind tonight.

“Do you think I should start learning magic again?” 

The question seems to take Astarion by surprise as he shrugs off his doublet. He seemingly rolls his eyes. “Is this about what Gale said earlier? When even was this conversation anyway? I didn’t know the two of you were so congenial with one another.” 

There it is again. Sephrin feels the hostility in his words, but she’s not sure why the subject brings about such a reaction from him. Sitting on her bedroll, she looks down at her hands. “I, we spoke the other day. Happened to pass each other. Glyn had told him I used to study magic, and for whatever reason, Gale seems to think I should start up again.”

Astarion still doesn’t look at her, instead running his fingertips over his chin and neck with a frown. The action actually reminds her of that very conversation with Gale. He had been shaving at the time and would run his fingers over his skin like that as he examined his double. It makes her wonder how Astarion is able to stay so clean-shaven when he cannot see himself in a mirror. Or does he even need to shave at all? Her natural curiosity always spikes whenever she starts to think of Astarion’s vampirism. It takes a lot of conscious effort not to bombard him with questions. Books could only tell her so much. 

He sighs. “And why are you asking me about it?” His tone doesn’t carry the venom it did earlier. 

Why? Why  _ wouldn’t  _ she ask him? “Because I value your opinion,” she says, looking up at him. 

A groan. “Oh, we’re at  _ this _ stage now?” From the corner of his eyes, he can see her flinch. Maybe that’s why he softens his tone. “You shouldn’t look to others to make your decisions for you.”

“I don’t want you to decide for me,” she frowns. “I just...what to hear your thoughts on it. To help me make a decision.” 

“Sephrin, darling,” he sighs again before joining her on the ground. As he sits beside her, his eyes meet hers. “What do you  _ want  _ me to tell you?”

Furrowing her brows, she opens her mouth to protest. She thought she had made it clear that she values what he has to say about the matter. But Astarion holds his hand up. “No, no. I’m not  _ asking _ you. I’m  _ telling  _ you.” Delicately, he holds her chin with his fingers. “What do you  _ want _ me to tell you? What are you hoping that I’ll say?”

As she stares into his eyes, she thinks about his words. How  _ did _ she expect him to answer? Did she think he’d tell her it was a stupid, pointless idea, that she shouldn't trust anything that wizard had to tell her? That even if she were to try studying it again, she wouldn’t be good at it, so why bother? But no, those were her own thoughts. She didn’t need to hear him echo what her mind has already been shouting. 

But that isn’t the question he asked her. He didn’t tell her to think about  _ how  _ he would answer.  _ Want _ . Want was the word he used. What did she  _ want _ him to say. Despite what he might have actually said, what he might actually think about the situation, what was she secretly wishing he would tell her? 

With a satisfied grin, Astarion closes the gap between them. It takes her by surprise. She thought he would want her to answer his question. Instead, he doesn’t relent, escalating the kiss. Not that she minds. In fact, it feels wonderful. She gives in easily, her thoughts quickly shifting from her mental dilemma to thinking about Astarion’s lips, his hands, his scent. 

She finds pressing against each other a very relaxing way to get ready for bed. 

Morning arrives a lot faster than she desired. The sun crept into the tent, searching for her eyes. Astarion had a habit of leaving part of the tent flap open when he left in the morning, and part of Sephrin thinks it’s intentional. She will never admit it, but it does help her wake up better than lying in a dark tent. Part of her wishes that one day she’ll wake up before he leaves. 

Reluctantly, she crawls out of the bedroll, though she takes her time leaving the tent. She promised herself she would seek out Gale in the morning, but last night, morning seemed so far away. She tries to coax herself outside, but it’s not working. Her feet don’t want to move. Every time she tries, she feels as though there’s a brick wall looming over her, and she has to find her way to climb it. If Astarion was still there, he’d push her out the door. Or pick her up and say, “Really now, darling, the wizard is hardly a threat. Stop being so skittish, or I might just have to take you back to bed.” She blushes. She could actually hear his voice perfectly in her mind. Maybe it’s the embarrassment, but she finds the strength to leave the tent. 

He isn’t easy to find at first, not in any of his usual spots. Sephrin was getting excited. Perhaps she doesn’t have to go through with this after all! But she eventually finds him sitting on a stump not too far from camp. As she skitters closer, she notices something in his hands. Or not quite  _ in  _ but rather  _ above _ . When she can’t force her feet to move any closer to him, she watches, unsure if she should say something. Curious, though, she leans a bit to see what it is he’s holding. An image of someone. She looks beautiful. 

Her leaning casts a shadow, and suddenly Gale snaps his head in her direction. In a flash, the image disappears. “Oh!” he stands up, brushing his hands against his robes. “Sephrin, you, uh, you startled me. I was miles away. What, uh, what can I do for you?”

Hugging herself, Sephrin recognizes his expression, one that hopes it doesn’t look suspicious. One that pretends nothing is wrong. She nibbles on her lip. “Is...are you okay?”

Gale smiles reassuringly. “Of course, of course! I was just, just practicing an incantation.” 

Again, she sees it. She sees it plain as day because she’s so used to doing it herself. He’s hiding something. It doesn’t surprise her that he doesn’t trust her enough to share the truth. If the roles were reversed, she’d do the same. So she nods, glancing away. “I...I see. I’m sorry to, to have interrupted. I’ll...let you get back to her.” 

It’s as she’s turning to walk away that Sephrin realizes she said “her” instead of “it.” But perhaps it was for the best. “Do you know who she is?” he asks, leaning to try to catch her eye. 

Sephrin stops, half turning back around. “I...didn’t really get a good look. She...she seems beautiful.” 

As he nods, Sephrin notices his forlorn expression. “That she is. I...what can I say? She’s...Mystra.”

Her eyes widening, Sephrin turns to him fully. Truly, it shouldn’t surprise her to hear of a wizard being fond of Mystra, but something in his voice resonates with her. She’s not sure what, though. Unsure of what to say, she just says, “Oh.” 

His forlorn expression melts into one of admiration. “I can’t quite describe it, the need I sometimes feel to see her, to draw the filaments of fantasy into existence. No sculpture or painting could ever do her justice, only the fabric that she herself is and embodies.” There’s a pause as he links his eyes with hers. “The weave.”

Sephrin swallows audibly. The way he speaks drew her in, but just speaking those two words shook her to the core. She has made a mistake. She shouldn’t be here. It isn’t too late. She can just turn and leave the conversation at that. But for some reason, she forces herself to at least acknowledge what he has said. “I, I see…”

He continues to give her that piercing look as though he were trying to reach into her head. “Mystra is  _ all _ magic, and as far as I’m concerned, she is  _ all  _ creation.”

She should just leave the conversation at that. But she finds herself shaking her head. “I, I don’t…” 

“You don’t understand,” he finishes for her with a nod. “I’m sure you’re not the only one who doesn’t. But it is the very fiber of my being. Magic is...my life. I’ve been in touch with the Weave for as long as I can remember. There’s nothing like it.” His eyes gleam as he smiles. “It’s like music, poetry, physical beauty all rolled up into one and given expression through the senses. 

“And that’s why I can’t understand why you threw it away,” he concludes with pity. 

Again, Sephrin shakes her head, this time taking a step back as if he were advancing upon her. He isn’t, though. As a matter of fact, he keeps a respectful distance from her. He doesn’t even advance as she makes that retreat. “It’s, it’s not like that at all. It’s...horrible.” 

Gale holds out his hands. “You were young. Did you have anyone teaching you, anyone to guide you through the process?”

Sephrin stays very still for a few moments, then shakes her head again. She learned about magic the same way she learned about most things, through reading. 

He gives her a reassuring smile. “When a child lays their eyes on fire for the first time, they are usually enthralled by its ethereal beauty. And without guidance, that very same fire can become a source of fear as it blazes out of control. But when we see it contained, when we can utilize it and harness it, we again fall in love with its beauty.”

It’s only then he takes a step closer. Sephrin doesn’t react, reflecting on his words. Still, he keeps his distance as if trying not to startle a stray. “Would you like to experience this, to feel the beauty of the weave?”

Her mind screams no, but her soft voice whispers, “Yes.” 

Gale gives her an understanding nod and cautiously steps closer to her. “Then follow my lead.” 

Once he is sure she is paying attention, his demeanor shifts. Now somewhat serious, he focuses on a fixed spot in front of them. Energy engolfs his hands, and with a few motions, something flashes in front of them. Sephrin flinches, taking a step back, but when she looks to Gale, he gives her that supportive grin. He gestures to her to imitate the action. 

She bites her lip. “Wh-what do I…?”

“Just focus on the pull you feel. Don’t be afraid of it.” 

Pursing her lips, she tries to imitate the motion. At first, her actions are stiff and awkward. The whole thing makes her feel stupid and silly, waving her hands about like a child. But Gale encourages her to try again, to really feel the magic course through her. So she tries again, the motion a little less artificial. A little ball of energy sparkles in her hands before disappearing. 

For a moment, she thinks she did it wrong again, but suddenly she feels...something. Like a warm blanket being draped over her shoulders. Like a gentle smile beaming down at her. Her shoulders slacken. 

“Excellent,” Gale praises softly. “Now, repeat after me: Ah-Thran Mystra-Ryl Kantrach-Ao.”

This part is easy for Sephrin. She repeats the words with no problem. But she gasps soon after the words leave her mouth. The words leave a sweet aftertaste. She smells blossoms. Her eyes dart about as if to track down the source. 

Gale chuckles. “Very good,” he places a hand gently on her shoulder to bring her attention back to him. She flinches ever so slightly, but she doesn’t shirk away. “Now, I want you to picture in your mind the concept of harmony. As true as you can.”

Her face falls. Harmony? Picture harmony? “Th-that’s...I don’t...that’s not, that’s not real, that’s not something I can-”

“Breathe,” he intercedes. “Do not overthink it. What does the word mean to you? What image does it bring to mind? It can be a place. It can be a person. Whatever you think of when you think of being at peace.”

Sephrin takes a breath. And then another. And then closes her eyes. What does she think of when she thinks of being at peace? Has she ever been at peace? What does one feel when they are at peace? She realizes she’s overthinking again. She wishes she could just stop thinking. Yes, stop thinking. That’s what harmony means to her, for her brain to be quiet, for her to be enveloped in silence. 

Another flash dances before her. She feels a presence as if someone watching her. Even though she cannot see it, she somehow knows it’s her, the one Gale had been studying when she first found him. That blanket around her shoulders feels warmer, like arms locked in an embrace. 

Gale gently shakes her as he laughs. “You did it! You’re channeling the weave. Tell me, how does it feel?”

“It feels…” How does it feel? “It feels…” 

The mirth that was on Gale’s face slowly fades as his mind is suddenly bombarded with tempestuous thoughts. He notices the change in Sephrin’s demeanor as well. Her shoulders arch and her breathing quickens. All the while, he feels the words ricochet in his mind. 

_ Pathetic absolutely pathetic look at you you terrible thing you awful no good people work for years for this what a waste how dare you even think you could this is not right you’re not allowed to do this you shouldn’t be here you don’t deserve this should have gone to someone else someone worth something anything you’re not worth you subterranean pathetic worthless worthless worthless worthless _

With a wave of his arms, Gale breaks the spell, the Weave dissipating into the air. He watches for a moment as Sephrin hugs herself, a hand pressed to her mouth. Tears threaten to fall. Gale holds his hands up. She flinches. 

“Sephrin,” he says quietly. “Who has said those things to you?”

Unable to find her voice, she merely shakes her head. 

He purses his lips. “You are very hard on yourself, then. Tell me, those thoughts...was that what you felt all those years ago when you first touched the Weave?” 

All those years ago, when her tiny hands reached out for the magic calling her, it felt wrong. It felt like reaching for forbidden treasure. Like having her hand smacked away. It wasn’t for  _ her _ .  _ She _ was not allowed to touch it. How  _ dare _ she touch it? 

But she cannot form those thoughts into words. Not now. She only tries to make herself smaller, to somehow hide in the broad daylight. 

Gale opens his mouth to say something, but he is hindered by an urbane voice. “Am I interrupting something?” 

Instantly, Sephrin whips her head toward Astarion, terror and pain etched in her eyes. He has a pugnacious air about him, but he doesn’t aim it at her. No, his eyes are fixated on Gale. She recognizes the look. It’s the one he often gives her brother. 

Cocking a brow, Gale holds up his hands. “You are, actually, yes. But I believe we are at a good stopping point.” Gently, he places his hand on Sephrin’s shoulder. “I want you to think about how it felt  _ before _ those thoughts took over. I saw it in you; you felt the beauty of it.” 

As he leaves, Gale gives Astarion a look Seprhin isn’t able to read. Astarion returns it with a brusque smirk before finally turning his gaze upon Sephrin. He cocks a brow at her. “That was quite the show you two put on. Almost thought I was back at Baldur’s Gate, watching a street performance.” 

He had seen it? How? Had he just been walking by or, perhaps, had he followed her? He did seem to show up at the most opportune time. 

With her sleeve, she dabs the corners of her eyes. “I, I’m such an idiot. I knew I should have just...left it alone.” 

He shrugs, glancing down at his fingers. “Perhaps. But, then again, you seem to have a history of taking on potentially dangerous hobbies.” 

She pauses. “What?”

Seemingly satisfied with the quality of his nails, he smirks at her. “Well, let’s see. There’s that bat you apparently took in-”

“He wasn’t-” 

“-with no thought of whether it would have negative repercussions. And then, of course, darling, there’s  _ me. _ ”

She studies him, studies his expression, his words, his inflection. Was he teasing her? Or was he encouraging her? sephrin doesn’t have a chance to dwell on it for too long. Astarion quickly turns on his heels and starts sauntering off. 

“At any rate,” he calls from over his shoulder. “We should get going. Lae’zel is grousing about finding the creche again, and while I’d love to see her get furious enough to pop out an egg, it would probably be best to make haste.” 

Such a whiplash of moods and tones. Sephrin watches him for a moment, still trying to process all that occurred that morning, still feeling the lingering effects of the Weave. But when he glances back at her, the impish gleam in his eyes sends a frisson down her spine.

Perhaps he has a point. 


End file.
